


Let the Fraggles Play

by squid (triesquid)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff, High John, John-centric, M/M, Post-38 Minutes, Recreational Drug Use, cranky!Radek is cranky, here be muppet references, snarky!Rodney is snarky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are muppet comparisions and John being high and Rodney being annoyed and Radek being 329839% done with everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Fraggles Play

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on Wraithbait way back when SGA was in, like, it's second or third season.
> 
> There is off-the-screen-McKay-Shappard sex and an implied Kavanaugh-Bates relationship (one of the most bizarre minor pairings I think that I have ever seen). 
> 
> This fic is not meant to be against drugs or alcohol or for it. This is not meant to be a commentary on the evil's of illegal and/or legal substances or on their virtues. It's just a plot mechanism and my general annoyance at people who sublimate their emotions to the point they only come out when they are impaired. Just a pet peeve. The "having fun by accident" came from a shirt I used to have that had the mentioned-character on it and said on the back "I might have fun by accident." Unfortunately, it got sacrificed to a conference I went to. And, if y'all don't know, Sir Didymus is the little fox-Quixote in Labyrinth. 
> 
> As always, thanks to my beta-bug, whee.

"...Boober."  
  
Rodney looked up at John sharply, eyebrows coming together in the most adorable you've-gone-and-whacked-your-head-again expression. John was vaguely startled by how appealing that expression was— _too_  appealing. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I said that you remind me of Boober." John stated again, stealing Rodney's coffee off his desk and almost choking as the near-sludge stuck in his throat. "Gah, and I though military coffee was bad." John said setting the cup in front of himself. "Boober, you know, little blue guy with redy-orange hair? Has the whole hat and scarf thing going for him?"  
  
"Yes, Major, I know who Boober is—I'm from Canada, not Neptune." Rodney rolled his eyes and reached across the table to retrieve his cup of scarpering-mouse-stregnth coffee. "And, it serves you right for stealing a geek's necessary caffeine. Boober, if I remember correctly, was a little blue guy with a laundry fetish and an unhealthy attraction to radishes. I'm also failing to see how I could possibly resemble a Muppet." Rodney stopped abruptly and stared very intently at John—intently enough that John began to fidget. "Have you been in the Athosians  _muong_ -weed again?"  
  
"God, Rodney, you have a little one time at a coming-of-age shindig—where, might I remind you, Elizabeth had a lot and squeed about lime-green sparklies all night—and any time you make an observation, people accuse you of being high—"  
  
"Major."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Have you been in the  _muong_ -weed again?"  
  
John felt himself flush to his ear tips. "I only had  _one_  hit, Rodney." John tried for tired dignity, but it came out more of a squeaky-whine.  
  
Rodney sighed and set his coffee to the side and pressed a few keys on his laptop before closing the lid. "Come on, Major." Rodney said as he caught John's elbow and steered him out of the lab past a slightly startled Zelenka and a cranky looking Kavanaugh. The man  _always_  looked pissed off—even more than Rodney. John stopped, pulling away from Rodney, and prepared himself to actually show  _interest_  in the man that had thought it was a  _really good idea_ to disengage the 'Gate when they had been stuck  _in_  it, who was so  _thoroughly_  unpleasant that only Bates could love him.  
  
But, just as John was about to open his mouth, Rodney's hand covered it, and John found himself being dragged away as Rodney muttered "Excuse us."  
  
Once they were clear of the other denizens of the labs and standing quite alone in a corridor, John licked Rodney's hand.  
  
Rodney pulled his hand away like it had been burned, glaring at John as he wiped his hand down his uniform trousers. "Major, could you act a  _little_ more like a bratty four year old?"  
  
John put on his best considering-it-carefully look. "Well, I could, Rodney, but I really don't think it's appropriate behavior for the ranking military officer to display."  
  
"Like being publicly stoned is?"  
  
"I am not stoned. I'm—happy."  
  
"You're fucking looped."  
  
"Hey, I resemble that remark."  
  
"Hence why I'm trying to get you back to your quarters." Rodney said as he began to, again, manhandle John down the corridor. Or was it people-handle?  John-handle? "Do you  _really_ want Bates to see you like this? He'd stage a coups."  
  
John couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up out of his throat. John was smurf-sure that the only way that Bates would even stage a revolt was if John _made_  him take Rodney with him offworld. The one time that John had even  _suggested_  it, that Bates  _might_ — _just this once, you understand_ —take Rodney with him on a mission, Bates has pulled himself to complete and full attention and asked for permission to speak freely. When John had assented, Bates had stated, vehemently, "I refuse to escort Dr. McKay to the privy, let alone  _offworld._  Unless, you're with us.  Sir." And Bates had turned sharply on his heel and left without being dismissed—the only time it had ever happened.  
  
Rodney hit the door panel with his elbow and pushed John into his room. The room was blissfully dark and cool, the sun having since moved to another part of the city. John turned to face Rodney, surprised by how large his eyes seemed in the salt-scented twilight. "Okay, Major, time for stoned military leaders to sleep it off."  
  
"Don't wanna." John said as he moved towards Rodney. John leaned into Rodney, close enough to breath in his ear. "Want to go to bed with you." Rodney stiffened and his breathing hitched as John nipped at his earlobe, his throat. "Come on, Rodney."  
  
Rodney pushed John away, holding him at arms-length. "No, Major. Not this time."  
  
"But, Rodney—"  
  
"I said no. Every time you ingest some kind of intoxicant, you want to fuck. The first time, I was too gone to stop this madness before it started. This time, I'm not.  _Not. This. Time._ "  
  
John tried to move back into Rodney's personal space, but Rodney was having none of it. John tried another tactic. "Rodney, I like you."   
  
Which was met with an eyeroll.  Well, an Eyeroll Heard 'Round the World but yeah.

"And that's all very well and good if this  _ever_  happened when you were sober, but it doesn't. You like me so much? See me when you aren't high."  
  
Rodney left John's quarters by simply stepping back, leaving John to blink stupidly at his door.

* * *

Four hours later, John was in Rodney's lab again, leaning against the doorframe with every ounce of seductiveness he possessed.  
  
Unfortunately, Rodney never looked up.  
  
It was time for a different tactic.  
  
"You remind me of Boober." Rodney's head snapped up and he gave John a patented McKay you-are-the-biggest-asshole-in-two-galaxies-and-an-idiot-to-compound-it-and-I'm- _still_ -trying-to-figure-out-why-they-allowed-your-non-house-broken-sentient-haired-arse-here-anyway look.

It was a wordy expression with many layers and nuances.

And, it meant that John had a McKay-look all his own.

Yay.

"You know, little blue guy with a laundry fetish and an unhealthy attraction to radishes?" John said, verbally marching forth.  
  
"Have you lost what passes for your mind or did the  _muong_ -weed give your hair a chance to revolt?"  
  
"Neither," John said, pealing himself off the doorframe. "I just like you, Rodney."  
  
Rodney's wordy glare softened into something that wasn't  _quite_  a smile but wasn't far from it. "You're insane."  
  
"I thought I had already told you that I'm as sane as ever and that Wilbur hasn't taken over—yet."  
  
Rodney shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You named your hair?"  
  
John nodded seriously. "Well, it was starting to feel unloved with all the implications to its intelligence yet lack of name."  
  
"Okay, hair is Wilbur. Got it." Rodney looked hesitant for a moment, an expression John was pretty certain was even more attractive than Rodney's confused-now look. "I'm afraid to ask, but why do you keep comparing me to Boober?"  
  
"You're a lot like him, Rodney. Melodramatic, but brave and only ever having fun by accident—"  
  
"I resent the implications of that statement, Major." Rodney sniped, crossing his arms defensively. "I do know how to have fun."  
  
John smiled his best you-really-do-want-to-come-along-quietly-and-have-lots-of-sweaty-monkey-sex-with-me look. Good to know he had wordy looks too. "Yes, but only under certain circumstances and with certain people—"  
  
Radek chose that moment to step into the lab and glare at John and Rodney, his expression morphing from an exasperated glare to an annoyed, exasperated glare. "For the love— _Rodney_ , is second time today Major is here vying for your attention." Radek went to his workstation and clicked the keys in annoyance. Something that John had thought only Rodney could do.  
  
"Just what are you implying, Zelnorm?"  
  
Radek sighed the Sigh of the Put-Upon. Another thing that John had thought only Rodney had mastered. "Will not work, am already furious at twit, Kavenaugh. You want to fuck like bunnies— _fine—_ just  _go_  already. Some of us are trying to work." With that bit of insight, Radek went back to whatever he was working on.  
  
"Wha—"  
  
"Rodney," John said sharply, stopping Rodney in mid-syllable. "Don't argue with the man. Come on." And John was the one pulling Rodney out of the room this time.  
  


* * *

John woke up on his side with a Rodney-squid wrapped around him—all long limbs and translucent skin. It was nice. It was more-than-nice, really, but anything more than nice sounded girlier than John could accept. Waking up nose to nose, Rodney's lips parted in sleep, sleep-warm and  _real_.  Nice.  Though, John was trying to figure out why he  _hadn't_  been waking up like this since he had died. 'Cause that was when this had all started—after Beckett had released him from his evil clutches with a bug-bite-hickey the size of Montana on his neck.  
  
John had found Rodney in his lab looking red-eyed and exhausted and had dragged him to a balcony, a bottle from Radek's still waiting for them. Then, they had proceeded to get mind-bogglingly-Golden-Moment-stupid drunk.  
  
And that's when it had happened. All the disconnected, disparate, disjointed—and any other d-word that fit—opinions about Rodney had coalesced into something whole with a truth to it:  Rodney was a part of him.  
  
John didn't know what that meant, not really. Just that he didn't feel complete, even after such a short time, without Rodney snarking by his side. John  _still_ didn't know  _quite_  what it meant, but he had leaned forward and kissed Rodney.  

And, it had felt right.

John had felt whole and connected to this world for the first time in a  _really_  long time. Why else had he chosen to fly except to reach the place that he belonged?  And here it was—on a balcony, with alcohol-sharpness on his tongue, and the homey smell of coffee and chocolate and salt exuding from him.  
  
John leaned into Rodney's sleeping-soft mouth and kissed him gently. Rodney tasted morning-bitter, but too good to stop. Then, Rodney was kissing him back, muttering into John's mouth, expounding upon M-theory, the need for coffee, the significant  _insignificance_  of pi, or the proficiency of John's tongue. John couldn't tell.  
  
Suddenly, John found himself pressed back onto the mattress, Rodney above him looking way more awake that John felt. "John." Rodney said simply. A greeting and a query in the same word.  
  
"Rodney." John hoped that his inflection told Rodney everything he wanted to know. It must have because Rodney smirked slightly before resting his chin on John's chest.  
  
"You know, you remind me of Sir Didymus."  
  
John smiled. "Dashing, handsome, and brave?"  
  
"No, insane with gravity-defying hair and suicidally stupid."


End file.
